


Stay With Me

by idreamofignoct



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, M/M, Older Ignis, Older Noctis, Sad with a Happy Ending, future timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofignoct/pseuds/idreamofignoct
Summary: The time has come for the Chosen King to fulfill his destiny. But when his final battle with Ardyn leaves him infected by Starscourge, Noctis is confronted by an uncertain future outside the gods' design. Ignis, however, will not let him face it alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This sets up a much longer fic I'm currently working on. It started out as a John Wick-esque type deal but has since evolved into something different. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Updated the content just a bit. I was working on the first chapter for the new fic when I realized hey! This particular bit of dialog would work better here. Maybe help explain a bit of Gladio's motives, too.

With a final burst of light, accompanied by the undeniable sound of a blade striking flesh, Ardyn fell. Noctis Lucis Caelum dismissed his weapon, an involuntary action, for his attention stayed on his enemy. 

The former chancellor lay on his back, arms spread, scarf and coat slick with rainwater. Noctis approached him, his steps slow, leaden. Exhaustion the likes he’d never experienced weighed on him. The want to simply stop and just…be, teased his thoughts. He brushed it aside. First, he needed to set another weary soul at ease. Then he could think of his own.

The king knelt beside Ardyn. His eyes were closed, face slack, as if in a deep sleep. Part of Noctis wondered if Ardyn experienced sleep the way he did. Was it a gradual descent into comfortable silence? A feeling of being dragged, against his will, into the abyss? For reasons he failed to understand, even to himself, he reached for the other man.

But Ardyn’s eyes snapped open, his lips pulling back into a twisted grin. Noctis caught a glimpse of red light before a blade sliced across his chest. Unprepared for the attack, Noctis collapsed alongside him. Ardyn released a weakened chuckle and faded away, the smile lingering on his face. 

Shaken and breathing hard, Noctis pushed himself to his knees. He pressed his hand to his chest. His palm came away slick with blood. The heavy thud in his chest echoed in his ears. There was pain, but also another sensation. One he couldn’t identify. What the hell did Ardyn _do_ to him?

Agony cut through him then, unlike anything he’d ever felt. As he bent over, fingers curling on the slick pavement, daemons emerged from the ground. They swarmed around Noctis like scavengers upon a corpse. Another burst of pain crippled him, sending him backward. He blacked out before he hit ground. 

Heavy darkness surrounded him. Noctis felt as if he was being smothered. The world felt too hot. He forced his eyes open and went rigid. 

Several glowing figures stood over him, features hidden behind helms of otherworldly design. Standing behind them was a much larger figure, its silhouette formed of dozens of swords: Bahamut.

The Astral raised a hand. The circle of warriors summoned weapons in brilliant flashes of white and blue. One in particular caught his eye- _Dad?_

At the same instance, Noctis’s own hand lifted, fingers outstretched, trembling, the Ring of the Lucii shining in the light. 

Bahamut watched him with impassive eyes. “Unworthy.”

There wasn’t any time to gasp, or think, for Bahamut lowered its hand, and each weapon pierced his body. 

Noctis’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. It seemed as if his very being shattered.

***  
Noctis woke with a strangled cry. Panic soon transformed into pain, leaving him breathless. His body burned, red hot. He felt as if someone peeled his skin off. Thirst the likes he never experienced seized him. Desperate, he looked about for something to drink. Wasn’t it raining before? 

A gentle hand touched his. 

Startled, Noctis looked up. Relief shook him so much, he felt on the verge of tears. 

Ignis sat beside him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The window behind him afforded Noctis a glimpse of the flickering sign atop what had been Takka’s diner. Odd. He had no memory of returning to Hammerhead. Had they even left? The fight against Ardyn seemed more a dim dream than actuality.

“Iggy,” Noctis gasped, then winced. “What happened?”

“The daemons overwhelmed the Citadel,” Ignis said. There was a curious detachment to his words, as if he were delivering a report. “It took us a day to find you, and another two days to get out of Insomnia. You’ve been unconscious for almost a week.” 

“What?” Noctis said. “Why’d we leave? The crystal. I—” He broke off as pain tore through him. He grabbed his chest. “Dammit! Feels like I’m on fire.”

Ignis bowed his head. “It’s not an incorrect comparison.”

Noctis struggled to his elbows. The bunched sheets beneath him scratched at the right side of his body. It created an uncomfortable sensation. “What are you talking about?”

Now Ignis’s expression turned sorrowful. “Noct…” he said, trailed off. His voice echoed of pain. “Gentiana came to me a few days ago. Your prognosis is bleak.”

Gentiana’s involvement struck Noctis like a physical blow. A harsh truth hung in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. “Ignis,” he said, breathing hard. “What’s wrong with me?”

Ignis, who never lacked for words for any situation, fell silent. He turned his face toward Noctis’s right arm. The deliberate movement sent a chill through Noctis. Heart pounding, he glanced down. 

The ugly wound stretching down his arm glowed bright red in the dim light. Blood stained the ragged remains of his sleeve and the sheets. 

The world telescoped, Ignis, the camper, the bed beneath him, drifting away while the ruin of Noctis’s arm doubled in size. As he stared at it, pockmarked with wounds both old and freshly burned, Ardyn’s mocking, triumphant smile flashed in the back of his mind. Saw the stark, black circle on his finger where the Ring of the Lucii should have been. Recalled Bahamut’s damning words. 

_Unworthy._

Breath quickening, he flung Ignis a panicked look. “The Ring…?”

Ignis kept his face averted, his distress evident on his taut features. “I have it. It’s safe.” 

“And my arm? It’s…” 

Ignis did not reply. The tightening of his lips said it all. 

Noctis shuddered. _Starscourge._ They both knew what happened to the infected.

He reached for Ignis’s hand. Their fingers threaded together, an involuntary reaction. Tears filled his eyes. Ignis, no doubt having heard Noctis’s choked sob, squeezed his hand.

“Do they know?” He barely recognized his own voice.

“They only know you’re injured,” Ignis replied. His gaze seemed drawn to their linked hands. “Gentiana spoke to me in confidence.” 

Noctis leaned back in the bed, suddenly weary. “Good,” he murmured. “Don’t tell them.” 

Ignis appeared surprised. “Noct—” 

“Please, Iggy.” He averted his face. “If they ask, just tell them I don’t remember, or I’m still out of it. Give me time.”

There was a brief silence. Then Ignis squeezed his fingers.

“As you wish.” 

Weeks passed. The prolonged recovery put Noctis in a melancholy mood. He slept little, ate even less. Gladio and Prompto, respecting whatever story Ignis spun on his behalf, let him be. But he knew the arrangement couldn’t last. He owed them the truth. Accepting it as such…well, that was more difficult. 

He couldn’t believe all he endured, all the sacrifices others made on his behalf, amounted to nothing. The gods had preordained his fate. How could they not see he’d fail in the end? Then, as he thought about the thousands of years Ardyn spent cut off from the gods he once served, Noctis understood. Immortal, all powerful beings they were, the workings of the mortal heart forever remained a mystery. 

Noctis wanted to be angry at the gods. It’d be so easy to renounce them as easily as they renounced him. Hold Ardyn responsible. What better vengeance against those who wronged him than to damage their chosen savior? In the end, he only had himself to blame. He let Ardyn get the better of him. The vision of his three companions being struck down in the throne room spurned him on. He saw their faces, laughing, smiling, reproachful, worried, relieved, as he fought to the brink of exhaustion. He suffered for them. It’d always been about them. 

Only he’d failed them all. To make matters worse, he was going to die. Not restoring sunlight to a world floundering in darkness, but as one who lived in it. This hit Noctis hardest. He remained withdrawn, watching the world go by from the camper bed. 

“Gladio is getting impatient,” Ignis said, bringing Noctis another tray of food he’d most likely pick at again. He set it on the table across from the bed, then began uncovering the dishes. Noctis watched him, caught somewhere between drowsiness and awareness. The sight of Ignis adding a dash of seasoning to the soup, spooning sugar into the coffee cup, was comforting. It reminded him of the old days.

Ignis turned, the tray in his hands. Noctis sat up in bed, a habit ingrained in him from his childhood, allowing Ignis to place the tray across his lap. He stared down at the bowl of soup. His tired, distorted reflection stared back.

“Noct.” Ignis spoke softly. “They have to know.”

“I know,” Noctis said, but without the impatience of his youth. He sounded as resigned as Ignis looked. Tired, too. The vigil had taken its toll on them both. 

Ignis waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, he gave a small sigh. “You should try eating this time. The rations won’t last forever.”

Noctis murmured a response. Knowing Ignis wouldn’t leave until he sampled the soup, he took up the spoon and dipped it into the broth. But rather than bring the spoon to his lips, he was content watching the frothy swirls curl in and around it. 

Ignis sighed again. “Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re not eating.” The remark carried a trace of his familiar wry humor. “Unless you want me to force feed you.”

Noctis set the spoon aside. He glanced up at the other man. “Do you blame me, Ignis?”

The question appeared to catch him off guard. Ignis recovered himself. “About what?”

“About this,” Noctis said, gesturing to the window despite knowing Ignis couldn’t see the dark sky. “I was supposed to restore the dawn. I can’t now.” He glared at his right arm, the Starscourge emblazoned on his skin like a brand. The dark scar circling his finger where the Ring of the Lucii burned him. 

Ignis said nothing. Noctis watched him, wishing he wasn’t so damn good at concealing his inner thoughts. Gods themselves wouldn’t be able to even assign a preset destiny for Ignis. And the very idea of disappointing Ignis _hurt._

He swallowed. “Ignis,” he said. Heard the catch in his voice, knew Ignis had as well, for alarm crossed his features. “Tell me. Please.” 

Ignis’s blank expression wavered a bit. His lips moved, but whatever he intended to say was lost at a sharp knock at the door.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio called. He sounded angry. “We need to talk.”

Noctis felt a rush of panic. Ignis, demonstrating an awareness to Noctis’s emotional state that was uniquely his, gestured for him to be silent. He dimmed the lights, intent on giving Gladio the impression Noctis was asleep, and exited the camper. 

Noctis set the tray aside, not caring that some of the soup spilled onto the blankets. Now they’d smell of soup instead of just stale sweat and blood. He planted his bare feet on the floor and stood. After having been bedridden for most of his recovery, his legs shook. Slowly, Noctis moved toward the window, keeping his head low. Gladio stood opposite Ignis, who quietly descended the steps. Prompto, emerging from the diner with two Cup of Noodles in hand, noticed the commotion by the camper and joined them. 

“Not so loud, Gladio,” Ignis said. He stood with his back to the door, as if he were the bodyguard and not Gladio. “Noct’s just fallen asleep.”

Gladio grunted. It was clear he was beyond caring if Noctis slept or not. “It’s been over three weeks already. Daemons are popping up everywhere. Why haven’t we tried going back to Insomnia?” 

“Because he’s not ready.” The lie came so easily to Ignis. “He needs time.”

“Time?” Gladio snorted. “Don’t give me that crap. You’re just babying him, like you always do.”

“I can assure you I’m not babying him in this instance.” Ignis’s tone sharpened. “It’s something he must work through.”

“Okay, fine. While he works it out, why don’t _you_ tell us why we’re still here? I know you know.”

Ignis paused for a beat. Noctis held his breath.

“It’s up to Noct. Not me.”

For an instant, Gladio appeared simultaneously surprised and aggravated. Then his brows lowered. “That’s it. No more waiting. Noct needs to give us some answers. Now.” At this, he attempted to bypass Ignis.

The other man stood his ground. “What he needs now is rest. I’ll talk to him about it when he wakes.” 

Prompto approached Gladio, an uneasy smile on his face. “Come on, big guy. Let’s come back when he’s awake. I wanna know what’s going on, too.”

But Gladio ignored the suggestion. He fixed Ignis with a hard stare. “Just what the hell are you two hiding from us?” 

Sweat beaded Noctis’s brow. Pain threatened to drag him to the floor. But he couldn’t listen anymore. The guilt was too much. After struggling to conceal his arm under his cape, he pushed the door open and staggered outside. Unable to stand under his own power, he gripped the door frame. He saw the surprise in his friend’s eyes, the disbelief. 

He started down the stairs. His foot slipped, pitching him forward. Ignis called his name, worry and fear edging the sharp tone, but it was Gladio who caught him. 

“Shit,” he gasped. “He’s burning up!”

“Noct!” Prompto raced to his side and grabbed his hand, only to release him with a sharp intake of breath. Noctis knew he didn’t mean it, but it hurt seeing him pull away like that. 

Gladio encouraged Noctis to walk, careful not to hold onto him too tightly. Ignis pulled one of the chairs away from the table. With a small sigh, Noctis eased onto the seat. The plastic creaked under his weight. He slouched in the chair, dimly aware of Gladio and Prompto hovering. Ignis stood beside him, a hand at his shoulder. Noctis leaned toward him, comforted by his presence, his familiar scent.

Prompto spoke first, hesitant, almost fearful. “What’s wrong with him?”

Ignis squeezed Noctis’s shoulder. Understanding what his friend asked, Noctis took hold of his cape. Slowly, for moving brought pain, he pulled it off. The cape settled onto the ground, sinking into itself like a whisper. 

No one spoke. The truth of his injury held them in thrall. 

Prompto’s eyes shone. “No-Noct…?” His voice broke over a sob. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is.” Ignis spoke in low tones. 

“How did it happen?” This from Gladio. There was a strained quality about his voice, as if he fought tears.

“Ardyn,” Noctis rasped. Anger laced his words as he explained what happened. “I’m not the Chosen King,” he finished, drawing gasps from Prompto and Gladio. “The Ring burned my hand. I’m infected with Starscourge. I’m nothing now.” 

Ignis made a low sound in his throat. His hand tightened on his shoulder. 

Prompto shook his head, slowly, as if he wanted to refuse the truth. Gladio stared at Noctis, a contemplative look on his face. The longer Noctis maintained eye contact, the clearer he saw Gladio’s intent. His heart hammered in his chest. Could he truly…?

Regret shone in Gladio’s eyes as he slowly lifted his arm. 

The great sword manifested at his shoulder. 

“Wh-what are you doin’?” Prompto cried, but Gladio already closed the distance between him and Noctis.

The sharp echo of clashing steel rang into the air. Gladio stared at Ignis across their crossed weapons. Noctis hadn’t even seen him move. 

Gladio exhaled. “Out of the way, Iggy.” He sounded like a broken man, pushed to commit an act that went against his very nature. 

Ignis stepped away from Noctis, arm extended. The dagger flashed silver in the harsh glow of the lights. Noctis spoke his name. A sharp gesture silenced him. 

"How much time do you think he really has?" Gladio asked softly. His hand shook, just so. "How many will he kill before someone kills _him_?"

Noctis paled at his friend's words. Ignis maintained his silence.

A tense moment passed. Two. Gladio's eyes narrowed. Something passed between him and Ignis, some understanding outside Noctis’s awareness. He exhaled again, shoulders slumping. He lowered his sword and stepped back. Ignis relaxed his hold on his weapon, but he did not dismiss it. The silent message behind this action made Gladio’s features tighten. He glanced at Noctis. The look in his eyes was of apologetic farewell. Then Gladio turned and walked away. 

Prompto chased after him. They shared a brief conversation near the old Rent-A-Bird meter before Gladio flashed a sad smile, clapped a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, and kept going. Prompto called after him, to no avail. He cast a mournful look Noctis’s way, then fled for the empty garage, dropping the Cup of Noodles along the way. 

In that instant, Noctis understood the source of his fear. It had nothing to do with his friends blaming him for what happened. 

He didn’t want them to watch him die. 

A hand fell on his arm, drawing him from his thoughts. Noctis looked up at his closest friend. Like Gladio, Ignis’s features were drawn, tired. Sad. It only reinforced a decision that, until moments before, had been present but unspoken. Unthinkable. 

Once Ignis had Noctis settled back in the camper, the other man turned away. Noctis grasped his wrist.

“You shouldn’t have stopped him.” 

Ignis paused. “I couldn’t very well let him kill you, Noct.” 

“I’m dead anyway,” Noctis replied, unable to keep the resignation from his voice. Ignis stiffened at his words. “There’s no Oracle anymore. I can’t be cured. What hope is there for me?” His gaze drifted past Ignis to the window at his back. The sky, absent of stars, was as blank as his future. 

“Gladio had the right idea,” he murmured. “Just leave me.”

Ignis went very still. He then spun around and gripped Noctis’s shoulders, hard. “No,” he said in rough tones. His typically composed features now appeared on the edge of cracking. “Don’t you ask that of me.”

Noctis had never heard such unrestrained emotion from Ignis before. As he stared at him in wonder, took in the trembling lips, the determination in his gaze, sudden understanding overwhelmed him. His pulse quickened. Even the pain of his arm was forgotten in the wake of this incredible revelation. He’d always felt strongly about Ignis. It was hard not to when he was such a fixture in his life. Yet the callow yearning of his adolescence remained unfulfilled, held at bay by the wall their individual titles created. 

And here he was, calm, composed Ignis, that stalwart for decorum and propriety, holding fast to Noctis as if he’d never let him go, his face reflecting all the emotion he’d kept inside. The sight shook Noctis to his very core. The titles keeping them apart no longer existed. The paths that had once been so clear for them both were swept away. But now, thanks to Ardyn’s last act of revenge, he gave Noctis a chance to walk a path of _his_ choosing. A path he wanted to walk with Ignis by his side. With him, he’d have the strength, the courage, to face his end. 

Noctis placed a trembling hand on Ignis’s face. He drew in a small breath, as if unexpecting the caress. He murmured Noctis’s name, his voice thick with emotion. Noctis slid his hand to the back of Ignis’s neck, fingertips grazing the thick strands of his hair. Gently encouraged him to lean forward. 

He was not exactly rehearsed at kissing. Movies viewed a lifetime ago showed you _what_ to do, not _how._ But his inexperience counted for nothing at the first touch of Ignis’s lips to his. Their mouths came together as if they’d been practicing kissing all their lives. Noctis tightened his hold on the back of Ignis’s head, while Ignis’s fingers threaded through his hair. The kiss quickly turned passionate, the two men losing themselves to feelings no longer under their control. 

When they drew apart, breathless, faces flushed, Noctis pressed his brow to Ignis’s. He found it difficult to speak in the wake of what they shared. Right now, he only cared about the feel of Ignis against him, the warmth of his breath on his cheek. 

“Noct.” Ignis spoke in a breathy whisper. “I want you to know I don’t blame you. I’d never blame you for this. No more than I blame you for what happened to me.”

Noctis felt tears well in his eyes. “Ignis…”

“I also know what your future looks like,” Ignis continued. “Even so, I will remain with you, if you’ll have me.”

For the first time in weeks, Noctis felt the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. Hope blossom in his heart. “I have two conditions, Iggy.”

“Which are?”

Noctis leaned back so he could gaze into Ignis’s face. He watched him, or appeared to be, his expression of interest. Noctis laid his hand on Ignis’s cheek. 

“One,” he whispered, tracing the planes of Ignis’s face with a finger. “Stay with me tonight. I can’t sleep worth a damn without you.”

Ignis’s eye gleamed in appreciation of the remark. “And the other?” His voice was hushed.

Noctis ran another finger along the curve of Ignis’s bottom lip. He didn’t even hesitate. “Marry me.”

For a moment, Ignis appeared to not have understood. But then his lips curved into a smile that went right to Noctis’s heart and stayed there. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A strange sound emerged from Noctis. It wasn’t until after he kissed Ignis again that he realized it was a bubble of delighted laughter. 

Perhaps there was some light to this darkened future after all.


End file.
